Unmade
by Suave Boogie
Summary: He told her it was all about control. She told him it was all about following. Zuko x Katara


**Disclaimer:** It's called _fanfiction_ for a reason, y'know.

I'd like to explore the minds of these two fascinating characters, and really see why I love the pairing so much.

So behold my drabble.

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Unmade

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He told her it was all about control. 

Every step he made weaved a painting on the floor. Side step, lunge, and backtrack. Everything was to be in tune and unison with everything else. His hands melded through the air, sometimes with fingers splayed, and everything was at attention. Even the air around him was at attention. It twisted and simmered with his heat. It was his guard on all sides.

It was about the warmth, the nest of sparks that was bundled in his chest. The vivacious, kindling warmth that sometimes lay dormant. But not always, sometimes even during sleep it lashed out in dream and woke him--but not in pain, or fear. It told him he was alive with every fiery beat.

It was about the tendrils of flame that swept through his sinews and his limbs, spreading like some wild beast with no form and all the ravenous hunger in the world. The way it leapt into his fingertips as he performed his graceful killing moves... It was something about how it lashed down and took hold of his legs and soon everything in him was on fire. And then he would will it out and it would inflame and break free from his hands or his feet, wherever he willed it.

It was alive and it was dangerous. It was feral but he tamed it. It was all about control.

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She told him it was all about following. 

It was about the way she created a path through the air and how the water followed. The path had to be smooth and fluid because water is swept away from things that push it too hard. A gentle tug from another hand was enough, a simple movement calling from across the air. There was some unknown voice that sang it around her as she moved, and she listened. It was made from within herself.

It was about the breath of life she felt when it willed to be tamed under her movements. The revitalizing cool-ness that slid across her limbs and gave her strength. It's about a silent drumbeat that led the dance she danced. The way it looked as it glided through the air was surreal. And even more, the way the light played on it reflected in her heart and was captured there.

Not always does it obey. The water is about following and leading as well. It can be a typhoon, an unimaginable force, something legendary and unstoppable. It can be a cool rain on a hot day, a small stream, and a gift to a parched tongue. And she could will it so, in her righteous anger, to be a torrent, but at its center the eye is always gentle. It was about giving _and_ unleashing.

It was alive and it was dangerous. It was feral but she calmed it. It was all about following.

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"We're complete opposites," Zuko told her. "Fire is about destroying." He really didn't seem all too happy with that, evidenced on his face. 

"It's about being reborn," Katara told him. "Fire destroys and it creates. Water destroys and it creates. Are we _really_ that different?" She knew she had him. She sealed her question with an honest grin.

He didn't want to believe it. Everything in him told him he was not a part of this whole world. He was a part of his Nation and nothing else. But he did, somehow.

She knew that he believed it. He just had trouble with it--yet some part of him accepted it. He had been raised in prejudice and pride. He was proud, but not prideful. She liked that about him.

It had been a game of cat and mouse from the start. She couldn't give up the Avatar and her hope, just "as you can't give up your Nation and _your_ hope."

"Maybe it's similar," Zuko said, _almost_ smiling. She always looked for ways to get him. She was insightful like that.

They always ended up facing each other on that journey. And the more she saw his golden eyes, and the more she saw his movements, the more she knew he was just confused.

They always ended up facing each other on that journey. And the more he saw that she saw him, the more interested she became. This compelled him and _re_pelled him in the same way. Compulsion won.

Katara had been holding onto an anger against him that was really against something else. Zuko wanted everything that was precious to her. He wanted Aang, and in turn, her hope. But he didn't seem so evil. Maybe it was just a facade.

He was not the Everyone, the Everyone and Anyone that killed and plundered and conquered.

It had made him uncomfortable. Her sapphire eyes bore into him and defined his every word. Maybe she knew too much. Maybe she wanted to know too much. He had a wall around him against the world. Nobody was to breach it. It had been sealed with a painful scar on that day long ago, when everything came down around him.

Katara smiled and leaned against him. She'd scaled his brittle walls and knew her suspicions were right. He wasn't all that bad. He was just lost and stranded. He just wanted home and honor.

He wanted his hope justified. And she wanted that, too.

Zuko had lost the will to play pretend with her. His good nature always got the better of him. Sometimes he excused his actions for a greater purpose. But he was just a man. And not even a man. He was a boy, too. And he was honest with himself on the basic level.

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"You believe in nonsense," Zuko commented as she fiddled with his hand. But his voice betrayed him. He was teasing. 

Katara knew he was baiting her. She folded her arms and huffed, looking away. He always had his little games.

He slipped his arms around her and knew from the slightest relaxation of hers that it was all right. It had taken a while to come _this_ far. Trust does not breed as quickly as understanding might.

She wondered what her past self would think. But that was _before_ she knew him. She couldn't hate him now. She wasn't sure if she ever did.

But he couldn't hold onto her forever. They were still a part of the bigger game around them. Their hopes were still at war. So he let her go so she could leave (albeit reluctantly.)

But she wouldn't let him off _that_ easily. She touched her finger to her lips and then to his scar. For a moment water touched fire and neither was destroyed.

And she pulled away before he could respond, and she knew he hated that. He wound his gaze in hers and almost considered pulling her back.

But she wiggled free from his eyes and he _knew_ he'd keep chasing her.

And _she_ knew she'd still provide a chase.

For with each other, they were built up.

And because of each other, each was unmade.

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FIN

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...Whaaat? I can't be somewhat serious once in a while? ...Poo._


End file.
